Running The Beat
by FinalBananaHammock
Summary: Join Duncan McMillan, the cocky police captain, Noah Coolidgebeard, the unmotivated lieutenant, Courtney Strike, the hateful chief, and all of the other cops patroling the streets of Los Angeles on their hilarious and edge of your seat adventures!
1. Chapter 1

"_A recent police study found that you're much more likely to get shot by a fat __cop__ if you run.__"_

It was an average night out on the streets of Los Angeles. Stars twinkled far above the tall skyscrapers, dominating the city. Police sirens sounded in the background, as the single man dashed down the sidewalk, pushing aside pedestrians: the old lady on her way to a funeral, the well dressed man avoiding all of the puddles, the overdressed fat lady with a Chihuahua in her alligator skin purse.

Duncan ran down the street, his baton twirling in his hand as he shoved aside the same people. The Chihuahua barked angrily, to which Duncan stuck out his tongue in response as he dashed by. He stomped in a puddle, spraying the well dressed man. "Get back here!" He shrieked over the hustle and bustle of the city. He smoothed back his towering Mohawk as he picked up the pace.

Finally the man, with a ski mask pulled down over his head, came into arm's distance. Duncan braced his knees, and clenched his teeth. He leapt forward, almost smashing into a little kid with a giant lollipop, reaching for the back of the man's leather jacket.

Time moved in slow motion as he flew through the air. The tips of his fingers brushed the back of the man's jacket. It was too late to see the glinting iron death-machine in the man's hand. He whirled around, and put the gun to his chest. He pulled the trigger, and sent the ringing sound resounding through the streets of Los Angeles. Blood exploded from the back of Duncan's police blazer, staining the fabric as his lifeless body fell to the ground.

"_If you haven't seen your wife smile at a traffic __cop__, you haven't seen her smile her prettiest.__"_

**GAME OVER**

"CRAP!" Duncan McMillan **(Cocky Police Captain)** threw his controller to the ground, fracturing the plastic. The screen of his TV zoomed out over the streets of Los Angeles as the criminal his avatar was chasing ran away. The digital onlookers gasped.

NoahCoolidgebeard **(Unmotivated Police Lieutenant)**, sitting beside him in the backrooms of headquarters, folded his arms behind his head and looked at Duncan coolly. "That's the fourth controller you've broken." He observed.

Duncan smiled awkwardly. "You'll pay for this one too, right?" He requested/ commanded.

Noah raised his hand to his forehead in a mock salute. "Aye, aye captain!" He said sarcastically.

"You know I'll pay you back eventually!" Duncan protested, glaring.

"_Eventually_ is the key word here!" Noah said.

Before Duncan could respond, the radio clipped to his belt buzzed with static. He motioned to Noah to wait just a second, raising the radio his ear.

Noah mouthed, _"Sure"_ to him sarcastically, exiting the small room by the only simple door.

Duncan rolled his eyes as the shrill voice of the police chief echoed of the small device. _"Captain McMillan!" _She spat out his name with animosity.

"I told you that you can call me Duncan," He reminded her flirtatiously.

You could practically hear the police captain's fists clench over the line. _"What happened to the paperwork from the Peacock Floorboard case?" _She demanded.

Duncan scratched his head. "I think I might have used that one as toilet paper. You'll just have to check our sewage system to be sure." He smirked from ear to ear.

_"Very funny." _The chief said sarcastically. _"But I didn't get to be the first female chief in our system by dealing with impudent bums like you! I don't have time to deal with your act today!" _She growled.

"Fine, fine. I already filed them with Mr. Scott. You'll have to talk to him." Duncan said, coming up with an excuse for not having them.

_"You can be so difficult sometimes…" _The chief said. _"Good day to you, then!" _She finished.

"Bye Courtney!" Duncan said.

_"That's Chief Strike to you!" _She yelled through the line, before hanging up.

Duncan clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "She can be so difficult." He walked out of the back room, which had empty soda cans and bags of chips strewn everywhere. He emerged into his and Noah's office room. But "office" was a bad word to describe the room. It was more of a room with two desks and papers strewn everywhere.

Noah was playing Tetris on his cell phone at his desk.

Duncan called out to him. "Noah!" The Lieutenant looked up with a bored expression on his face. "I told the chief that I filed the Peacock Floorboard case with Mr. Scott! We need to find it, like, now!" He commanded.

Noah remembered the last time the chief got mad. He was convinced that a volcano would erupt underneath the city. He threw himself to the ground with Duncan as they rapidly sorted through the papers currently living there. "It's never been the same since you fired the previous secretary!" Noah stated.

Duncan ignored him, sliding around the floor. The door on the other end of the room flew open, and an extremely sweaty Cody Scott **(Nervous Secretary)** ran inside, instantly slipping on one of the pieces of paper. It glided through the air, landing on Duncan's head. He looked at it and smiled.

Cody jumped to his feet. He was wearing his regular attire. A short sleeved dress shirt with a loose tie and khakis. His armpits were soaked through with body-juice, as he adjusted his collar. "Chief Strike c-called and told me that y-you filed the Peacock Floorboard case with m-me, but I n-never got it!" He explained nervously, practically shaking.

Duncan got up and showed him the piece of paper that he tripped on, handing it to the secretary. "I just did." He smiled, winking.

Cody looked like he was about to faint as he exited the room. "Y-yes sir."

"I pity the fool." Noah crossed his arms as he continued to lie on the floor. Duncan shot him a look that told him never to quote the A-team again.

"_Civilization is a youth with a molotov cocktail in his hand. Culture is the Soviet tank or L.A. __cop__ that guns him down.__"_

**A/N- And that's the first chapter! This was simply a prologue to introduce some of the characters and give incite to what the series is all about.**

** Today's Quotes Came From: - Dennis Miller, Kin Hubbard, and Edward Abbey.**

** Considering how bored I'm gonna be over Christmas break, this should be updated soon!**


	2. Case 1 Christmas Crusaders

**_Relax; the handcuffs are tight because they're new. They'll stretch out after you wear them awhile._**

The average hustle and bustle on the streets of Los Angeles was roaring strong on Christmas Eve. Cars honked and drivers yelled at each other as they tried to get to the stores. Parking lots were stuffed, and trying to traverse them without getting run over was suicide. The same goes for stores. People were rapidly examining toys and other items before they got sold out.

Lindsay Parker **("Exciting" Police Officer) **was trying to decide between two different push-up bras in the sexy hub known as Victoria's Secret. Interrupting her analysis, the radio on her belt buzzed. She decided to put both of them in her bag, and held the radio right against her ear. The two women beside her were arguing rather loudly about who saw the last Bombshell Shimmer and Shine package first.

Eva Tucker **(Aggressive Police Officer)**, Lindsay's partner,was on the opposite end of the line. She felt the need to call and brag every time she would bag a drug dealer or bank robber. _"You should've been there this time! This guy is a Class A slime bag!" _Eva said.

"I'm sure he was…" Lindsay said absentmindedly as the two women continued to argue.

"I was here first!"

"But I called it!"

_"Okay, so picture this!" _Eva said. _"I've got this guy at gunpoint, and then these three guys come out of NOWHERE!"_ Eva began.

"Sorry, but this is kind of a bad time…" Lindsay said, finally deciding to snatch the beauty product from both of them, henceforth ending the argument.

"What the hell?" The foxy brunette cried.

The slutty blonde chimed in with, "Give that back!"

Lindsay pulled her badge and flashed it to the women, simply walking away. They just stared after her. "I would've gotten it though!" The brunette cried at the other one.

_"Fine then! See you at HQ!"_ Eva cried, undignified.

"See you then!" Lindsay said, pushing her way to the front of the line. With her uniform and badge, they parted like the Red Sea for her. She paid for her things and exited the store.

Outside, in the even more crowded mall, Duncan was quickly shuffling through his wallet. Lindsay noticed him out of place in front of the lingerie store, and called out, running toward him.

"How's it going, Captain?" She asked, saluting cheerfully with the bag on her wrist.

Duncan head snapped up to see the Officer in front of him. Lindsay's uniform was, well, special. She took it into her own hands to "spice up" her outfit after sending multiple designs to head office. All of which had been immediately turned down by the Chief. She wore heels, and tights only revealing a small bit of skin on her thigh. This was topped by a short skirt, with a tight fitting jean shirt. The outfit was topped with a cliché police hat.

"Good morning, Officer Busty." Duncan said.

Lindsay pouted, saying, "I told you to stop calling me that! Although it is a little bit gratifying…" She said, twiddling her thumbs. "Anyway, you're the last person I thought I would see here." She said.

"I'm just buying a gift for Courtney," Duncan explained.

Lindsay lit up like a Christmas tree. "You mean the Chief? I've been trying to get her to show off for years!" She exclaimed.

It was only then that Lindsay noticed the Leaning Tower of Boxes behind Duncan, with Noah's legs barely showing beneath it. His head poked out from beside it. "He also saw it fit to buy gifts for _everyone_ in the agency with _my_ credit card!" He cried, his face turning red with the weight.

"Hey! You're gonna enjoy that PS3 too!" Duncan snapped at him.

"Whatever!" Noah stomped his foot, and turned away. "I'm going home!"

Duncan called out to him through the crowd, "You can just leave those on my desk!"

Noah gave him a not-so-nice hand gesture. Duncan stuck out his tongue. He turned to Lindsay. "So what should I get her?" He inquired.

Lindsay snapped in victory, having the perfect idea. She pulled out one of the bras she bought, and placed it in Duncan's hands. It was the one she probably would have picked if she had decided to choose. "Here," She said, as Duncan blinked in confusion.

"Thanks!" He finally said.

"Don't mention it, Captain!" She winked, giving him the OK sign.

_Can you run faster than 1,200 feet per second? In case you didn't know, that's the rate of a 9mm bullet fired from my gun._

When Lindsay hung up, Eva scoffed and glared at the slime ball on the other end of her gun. He wore a trench coat with greasy black hair. Dirt was practically smeared all over his face. He tried to grumble something around the gun in his mouth, but failed.

"Shut up!" Eva commanded harshly, clipping the radio back to her belt. "Or do you want to end up like your pals?" She nodded with her head at three beat up henchmen lying in the corner of the alley.

The man shook his head as much as he could, a freaked out look in his eyes. Eva loved that look. That look showed that she was in control of his fate, and he knew it. And that he wanted to live. It let her feel like Anubis, weighing people's souls on the scale against a feather.

"Let's cuff and go." She sighed at last.

_Don't run. You'll only go to jail tired._

Duncan strolled down the cosmetics aisle of the local supermarket. Of course, it too was crowded to the brim. He had one more gift to give that day. He was pushed aside by a kid with his hat turned backwards and hoodie that was way too big for him. Duncan whirled around, his hand instantly traveling to his gun. Seeing the mysterious assailant, he sighed in resignation. "I'm way too uptight today," He put his hands behind his head, leaning against a Fruit Loops display in the front of the store. "It's Christmas! What could possibly happen?" He asked no one.

The situation turned bad fast. It was as if time began to move in slow motion. Eight men with ski masks over their faces walked slowly through the doors. They shoved aside a small old lady, sending her and a pineapple onto the tile. Civilians turned from their shopping to look at the men, just as the one in front pulled out what Duncan recognized as a Saiga-12. There was one popular use for the one-handed shotgun that Duncan feared in this situation. Crowd control.

Duncan let out a rude four letter word as the man fired three warning rounds into the ceiling. All of the people in the store rushed to the front to see what was happening. The lead man spoke with a raspy Brooklyn accent. "A-ight, 'eres 'ow dis is gonna work." He said, as his companions began to pull out various concealable weapons, like Glock 23s, Ruger Sp101s and the like. They pointed them at civilians and employees to beckon them to the front.

Duncan knew immediately that he was dealing with professionals. If they carried weapons like that, they probably would've jammed all radio and cell phone frequencies. Just to make sure, he pressed the call button on his radio. Just as he thought, all he got back was static.

"Ur all gonna git in da corner 'ight o'vr dare," The man signaled behind the pharmacy counter. "Er else I'll be painting the walls." He smiled, revealing a missing space. The crowd blinked in confusion, most not understanding his vague threat. "Um…" The man scratched his head. "We'll be painting 'em red!" He elaborated. Still no response. "It's gonna be 'ur blood!" He finished.

The little boy that bumped into Duncan earlier squealed, hugging who Duncan assumed was his mother as everyone in the store scrambled to the pharmacy counter. Duncan then had a decision to make. He could go with them, and quite possibly be a hostage in a crisis, or he could take up his responsibility of a police captain and deal with the situation himself. Obviously his choice was the latter.

"Go check the aisles!" The Brooklyn man ordered four of his underlings. "I'm gonna make a little call…to the government."

Duncan had to move. The Fruit Loops cutout was in the front of the cereal aisle, relatively close to the front area. At the end of that aisle was the entrance to the backrooms, where he could hide. The only problem was that Duncan would be seen if he tried to make a break for it. Then he had an idea.

_You didn't think we give pretty women tickets? You're right, we don't!_

Courtney Strike **(Temperamental Police Chief) **sat at her desk, on the phone with Bridgette Warner **(Helpful Assistant Chief)**. "This is very serious," Courtney said, slamming her fist on the mahogany desk.

_"In addition," _Bridgette said, with more bad news to deliver. _"District Captain McMillan is unresponsive." _

Courtney bit the inside of her lip. "That's typical. There's a hostage situation in his area, and he's probably out drinking with his radio turned off. Are they any ransom demands?" Courtney asked.

"They're trying to keep us in suspense. It's clear that they have hostages, but no numbers have been determined. So no, there are no demands. Although I have already contacted the SWAT team, and they're on their way to the scene." Bridgette informed her Chief.

Courtney stood up from her desk. She sighed. "Alright. I'll be there in a few minutes."

_No, sir, we don't have quotas anymore. We used to have quotas, but now we're allowed to write as many tickets as we want._

Duncan held his nine millimeter in his hand, and aimed it at a glass vase sitting on a counter. The people looking for him were getting close, so he had to fire soon. He put both hands on the handle, and pulled the trigger. He was an excellent shot, and the vase exploded. The sound of breaking glass echoed through the store as shards were sent raining from the sky. Hostages and robbers alike covered their heads with their arms, and this was Duncan's opening.

He dashed out from his cover, and launched himself through the door marked STAFF ONLY. It looked like the ploy didn't work, as he heard someone yell, "He went that way!"

Duncan had emerged into the backrooms, where crates full of food were stacked up to the ceilings, and there wasn't much in the way of decoration. Duncan quickly settled on crates full of soup cans to provide momentary cover. He had only just gotten hidden when three of the henchman burst through the double doors.

Duncan needed a plan, but didn't have the time. The three of them were already spreading out, and it would only be seconds before they noticed his tall green Mohawk. He finally settled on another distraction. He quietly ripped open the plastic surrounding one of the soup packages, and pulled out a can. He peaked out, and saw an opening. He chucked the can across the room, and it landed with a loud clatter on the cement floor. All three of the men turned to look, which is when Duncan made his move.

He whipped out his gun, and sent off three shots, one for each of the men. Two of them connected squarely with their chests, but one went stray and hit the wall. The two that were hit were sent flying, and were dead before they hit the ground. Their blood gushed from the open wound, probably staining the floor forever. The one that was left standing immediately whipped out his gun, and fired in Duncan's general direction. It was only a wall of soup that stood between Duncan and death.

There was no way a distraction would work again, but the soup gave Duncan another good idea.

The henchman edged closer, his weapon clenched tightly in his hand. The target was clearly armed, seeing as his two cohorts were dead on the ground. The man had his jaw set, and he took baby steps toward the wall of soup. He fired a round off occasionally, making sure that the target knew he couldn't run. On one of these shots, the target screamed out, and red liquid poured out onto the floor. The man gasped. He didn't think the shot would actually hit!

He smirked as he ran toward the soup wall. Suddenly, a green Mohawk rose up from behind it. The man who stood with a smirk on his face yelled, "Tomato soup!" before firing. The man's brain barely had time to register _uh oh_ before the very same organ was splattered on the ground behind him.

Duncan tossed the now empty soup can onto the ground, and looked for an alternate exit to the backrooms. No doubt that more men were on the way, and they wouldn't be happy to find out that their friends were dead.

He found another set of doors and quietly made his way out. He found himself behind the deli counter, when all of the men were looking in the wrong direction. He couldn't just start firing or else the Brooklyn man might harm the hostages.

_I probably should've thought of that before killing those guys…_ he thought regretfully to himself.

By this time, a whole police team had assembled in the parking lot. The SWAT team had their guns aimed at the sliding doors, where three women were bound and gagged in the way.

Courtney stepped out of her car and cursed to Bridgette, who had also stepped out. "They're using a human shield to stop up from firing." She said.

"Here is the megaphone, ma'am." Bridgette handed Courtney a megaphone.

Courtney took it. "Thank you." She nodded. She clicked it on. "Hello! I know you can hear me!" Courtney cried harshly, her voice ringing out all around the parking lot. "You have one chance to come out with your hands up!" She said. It was only silence it response.

Inside, Duncan lit up. "Courtney!" He cried, hearing the megaphone.

When there was no response, Courtney stomped her foot. "Be that way!" She shrieked unprofessionally. "Hand me a phone!" She snapped at Bridgette.

Bridgette sighed. "Here you go, ma'am…" She said, handing Courtney a cell phone.

Courtney began dialing the super market's number as she gave another command. "Also, get me the Head Technician!" She commanded, putting the phone to her ear.

The ringer went off four times before a man picked up on the other end. Courtney could hear his raspy breath on the other end. _"Hello, how may I direct call?"_ This man said with a heavy Russian accent.

"Cut the crap." Courtney said, somehow making it sound official.

The man chuckled. _"You sound like a cute little girl. What you doing on this line?"_ He inquired.

Courtney tried very hard to suppress her temper. She ground her teeth, and her breathing got heavy. "What…are…your…demands?" She asked through her teeth.

The man chuckled that annoying chuckle again. _"Okay then, I cut right to the chase. We demand three million dollars, as well as van fit to hold eight people with no windows." _He explained.

Courtney rolled her eyes. "That's not happening." She growled.

_"Okay then, how about five million dollars?" _He reasoned.

Courtney was having a very hard time controlling her temper now. "No!" She denied.

The Russian man laughed again. _"Okay, if you _really_ want, I stretch the payments over time. How about one million a minute for five minutes?" _The man joked.

Courtney rubbed her temples with her forefingers. "If you won't give yourselves up, we'll cut off your heat. At this time of year, you'll _want_ to come out!" Courtney informed them.

The Russian man began laughing again. _"If want to start making threats, we'll kill a hostage every hour that we haven't received the ransom!" _After that, the line went dead, and all Courtney heard was static. Courtney threw a temper tantrum, and tossed her phone into the snow on the ground.

Bridgette was immediately there. "That was my phone!" She cried, picking it up and then walking away calling, "Does anybody have any rice?"

Izzy Kamikaze **(Trigger Happy Head Technician) **had been brought to Courtney and was waiting for the call to end. "I have the Trinitrotoluene rigged up to the fuse box! The heat will be cut off in seconds!" She reported with a huge smile.

Courtney snapped at her. "What have I told you about using TNT in a public place?" She scolded. Izzy continued to smile. "Go defuse it right now!" She commanded.

Izzy then looked downcast as she trudged off through the snow. "Fine…"

Courtney turned to Lieutenant Coolidgebeard, who was drumming his fingers on the hood of his car. "I need you to make the calls arranging their ransom. Our number one priority right now is insuring the safety of the hostages." Courtney sighed in resignation as Noah pulled out his cell phone and started dialing.

Courtney got the megaphone back out of the car, and held it up to her lips. "We're making the preparations for your ransom demands now. Just don't harm the hostages!" Courtney said before ditching the megaphone again. "Worst Christmas Eve ever…" She sighed.

Duncan heard Courtney's announcement, even from the back of the store. Therefore he knew that he didn't have much time. He was close enough to hear what the burly Russian man said. Knowing that, the police would have the ransom money in under an hour. Duncan couldn't waste any more time. He had to—

"Here's right over there!" One of the two henchmen who were out searching cried out.

Duncan ducked down as bullets flew at him, shattering all of the meat displays. Duncan kneeled down, firing rounds off at them as well. When they ducked for cover, he dashed into the aisle next to them. It was only two of them that he had to face. The Brooklyn man was in the front, along with one man controlling the crowd, while the Russian man was up there too, by the phone. Randomly, a bag of Fritos next to Duncan's head exploded, sending chips flying everywhere.

Duncan rolled onto the ground, firing a few rounds through the cracks in the shelf. Suddenly, bullets were flying everywhere. They were firing through the cracks blindly, hoping to hit something. Duncan doubted that the fake death trick would work again, and decided not to try.

Suddenly, at the end of the aisle, the huge Russian man appeared. He had ditched his ski mask to let his long, flowing, curly red locks flow. He also had a huge red beard. Duncan thought that he might have been a retired professional wrestler. Luckily, though, the man didn't have a gun. Unluckily, _he had a bazooka_. The huge green monstrosity was slung over his shoulder, and it was locked onto Duncan's head.

"A friggin' bazooka?" Duncan cried out in shock.

The Russian laughed jollily. "Say goodbye!" He cried, pulling the trigger.

Duncan screamed, throwing himself onto the shelf. Unfortunately, there were some unlucky robbers on the other end. The shelf collapsed on one as products were sent flying everywhere. The other was hit with a spare can of Spaghettios, and was sent to the ground, knocked out. The rocket fired from the Russian's bazooka flew through the air, and hit the opposite wall. There was a silence before the storm.

Everyone gasped as the area was flushed with white light. Breaking the silence, the sound roared throughout the store. Everyone covered their ears. It was not unlike ten thousand fire crackers going off right there. Fire erupted from the wall, eating through the walls and ceiling. Smoke traveled fast, enveloping the crowd.

All of the kids in the store began to cry, and adults were left speechless. Duncan used the smoke to run up to the Russian. Duncan suspected that his right shoulder, the leading one in tackling the shelf, had been retched out of its socket. He was right handed, so it felt awkward wielding the 9mm with his left. Before the Russian knew what hit him, he was floored with blood gushing from his back. No one even heard the shot because their ears were still ringing.

Outside, there was mayhem too. "What the hell is happening in there?" Courtney cried as she heard the roar and saw a fireball erupt from the roof.

Noah was equally shocked. "Did somebody fire a nuke?" He cried.

One of the SWAT members ran up to Courtney. "Chief Strike! Should we use this momentary distraction to breach?" He asked, saluting.

"No." Courtney decided. "Who knows what kind of explosives they have in there! We can only hope that no civilians were harmed." She said, as she turned to Noah. "What's our status on the ransom?" She asked.

Noah was not bearing good news. "On such short notice, it'll be awhile." He said.

Courtney growled, biting the inside of her lip. She hated feeling so powerless. It might be time to take matters into her own hands.

Duncan was hoping for some kind of miracle. He had killed four of the eight men, and two were unconscious, but that still left two of them. Duncan only had a few more shots left, and in his injured state, taking out the last two would be difficult to say the least.

Duncan ran again, to hide inside of the Bakery. He would need a solid strategy to survive this. He had also noticed that before the bazooka had fired, the temperature had begun to drop. It felt like the North Pole in there. He actually _see_ his breath. Forget the criminals, in his tired state, Duncan wouldn't be able to take much more. Then, the Brooklyn man's voice rang out across the store. Duncan guessed that he was using the intercom.

_"I'll congratulate you on 'ow far 'ou've made it. 'Ut I've got a 'ittle lad 'ere, and if you don't come on out, he won't be growin' up!" _The man laughed. _"Why don't cha' say somp'n?" _He commanded more than asked the boy.

A little sniffle came across, before Duncan heard _"I want my mommy!" _echo through the store.

Duncan growled another four letter word, before coming up with his final plan. He would have to charge the man. He would drop his gun, and then try to take him out with his baton. Duncan guessed he would take a bullet in the process, but he'd be able to ensure the safety of these people. He sniffled. This was really what it meant to be a police man, wasn't it? To lay down your life to ensure the safety of the citizens. Duncan came to terms with his resolve, rising to his feet, dropping his gun on the ground.

_"'Ow about you hurry it up, eh?"_ The man said.

Duncan set his jaw, and walked to the front of the store with his working arm in the air. His baton was concealed behind his police jacket.

Just as Duncan thought, the man was behind the counter, one arm on a microphone, the other holding a gun to the kid's head. It was the same kid that bumped into Duncan. The man looked up and smirked at Duncan.

"So 'da one giving me so much trouble was a copper, eh?" He observed, seeing Duncan's jacket. He said nothing, only glaring at the man as he edged closer.

Suddenly, the sound of breaking glass filled the store. The locked automatic doors had shattered! Courtney Strike leapt through them, a gun in hand as she blocked all of the glass. She was quickly followed quickly by Officers Lindsay and Eva, as well as five members of the SWAT team.

The hostages all cheered with salvation in sight. Courtney immediately put a bullet in the man guarding them. His body fell to the ground before he could register what was happening. The Brooklyn man quickly regained his composure, holding the boy's neck with his hand, continuing to hold the gun to his temple. He wasn't going to let the heist slip through his fingers that easily.

Courtney narrowed her eyes, seeing the one hostage left. "Put your hands up, and we'll escort your ass to prison!" She spat, as the officers escorted all of the other hostages out.

The Brooklyn man had a crazed look in his eyes, so it was apparent that his sanity had slipped long ago. "Not today!" He cried. "I'm going to walk out of here safely, or else this boy is getting a bullet for Christmas!" The man demanded. The boy wailed. Something told Duncan that's not what the boy asked Santa for.

Courtney glared. Even after the awesome entrance, the bad guy would still win.

"Screw you!" Duncan cried. He ran up from behind, whipping out his baton. The man barely had time to gasp before the connection of metal to skunk bag. Blood ran from the hit, and the man crumpled to the ground.

"Officer McMillan!" Courtney cried, only just noticing him.

Duncan smiled wearily. "What's up, Courtney?" He asked, before falling to the ground.

His vision was blurred as he looked up at Courtney kneeling over him. "That's Chief Strike to you." She said calmly, before Duncan faded out.

The boy laughed, and ran into his mother's arms. She refused to leave until she got her boy back.

"That's so sweet!" Lindsay remarked, smiling to Eva.

Eva scoffed. "I prefer kicking butt and taking names." Going to help drag off the two unconscious men who got tackled by a shelf.

"Scrooge!" Lindsay called after her, sticking her tongue out. But she turned to go out to Duncan's car. She had something to do.

_Warning? You want a warning? O.K., I'm warning you not to do that again or I'll give you another ticket._

Duncan woke up in a hospital. He had a cast around his right arm, and his whole body was covered in bandages. Machines beeped all around him. He lay in bed, wearing one of those dumb hospital uniforms. He briefly wondered where his underwear was before noticing the boy sitting beside his bed. Of course, it was the same one that was held at gunpoint.

"You're awake!" He cried happily, noticing Duncan looking at him.

Duncan scratched his Mohawk. "Barely," He yawned.

The boy grinned. "I've just been waiting here all day to tell you how awesome I think you are!" He said.

Duncan smiled. "Thanks!" He said. No one had really appreciated him like that before. "It was nothing though, really!" Duncan modestly said.

The boy persisted, "Maybe, but_"

He was interrupted by the door flying open. The mom, looking very flustered entered. "You can't sit here forever!" She scolded her son. "Oh, you're awake!" She noticed Duncan.

"No, really?" Duncan asked sarcastically.

The woman rushed up to the side of his bed. "Thank you so much for saving my son!" She hugged the boy close. "So very, very, very much!" She said.

Duncan smiled. "It was all in a day's work!" He replied.

"We really must be going, but if there's anything I can do for you, just ask!" The woman cheerfully said.

Duncan thought for a minute. "There is one thing…" He smiled, thinking of what he had originally set out to accomplish in the cosmetics aisle.

A few minutes after they had left, Duncan noticed the wrapped present on the nightstand. It was yellow and pink, with a red bow. There was a card that said:

TO: Courtney

FROM: Duncan

Duncan smiled. Somebody must have wrapped the present he had for Courtney for him. He suspected Lindsay.

The door opened again, and Courtney walked through them with her head held high.

Duncan smiled. "Aww, you came to see me!"

Courtney scoffed. "It's only natural for a Chief to check on an injured Captain!" She defended herself. "But seriously, how could you do something so stupid? You took on eight armed men by yourself! And with all of those lives at stake?" Courtney ranted at him.

"I thought that was my job." Duncan shrugged. "Here, I got this for you." He nodded his head at the gift on the nightstand.

Courtney was taken aback. "But…I didn't get you anything." She blinked, slowly picking up the present. "It won't explode, will it?" She asked.

"Nope!" Duncan shook his head. "Hey, how did Darth Vader know what Luke got for Christmas?" He asked, setting up a joke.

Courtney decided to humor him. "I don't know, how?" She asked.

"He felt his presents!" Duncan laughed.

Courtney remained black-faced. "I don't get it." She bluntly stated.

"You know…He felt his presence?" Duncan said.

Courtney decided not to be mean on Christmas Eve. "Uh huh…" She said. "Well, Merry Day-Before Christmas, Captain McMillan." Courtney said, moving toward the door.

Duncan called after her. "Merry Day-Before Christmas, Courtney!"

Courtney kept her peace, and only screamed after she got in the car.

_The Chief of Police is a good personal friend of yours? Well, at least you know someone who can post your bail._

Courtney sat at her desk with her arms folded. The present sat on the desk in front of her. She was deciding whether or not to save it for actual Christmas.

_"Well, hurry up and open it!" _One side of her cried.

_"But it's from McMillan! Who knows what he could have done to this thing! It could be a bomb!" _The other side argued.

_"Screw that! It's free stuff! And even McMillan wouldn't screw up Christmas!"_

"Fine!" Courtney said, to silence the voices. She grabbed the paper, and pulled it back with a ripping sound. She stared at the "gift", her mouth in a perfect O. It was a full minute before she regained her senses.

"MCMILLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!" She screamed angrily.

Duncan sneezed as he walked into the station. He wanted to get inside so he wouldn't miss Cody, who insisted on coming in on Christmas Eve. It was 5'o'clock, so he should've still been there. The doctors insisted that Duncan not leave until the next day, but Duncan turned the other cheek, completely ignoring them. Someone had driven his cruiser to the hospital, so he hopped in and went right on down to the station.

He strolled on through the doors, and caught Cody just as he was packing up his bag. "Ahh, Mr. Scott!" Duncan cried, with one arm open.

Cody looked up like a deer in headlights. "Oh, h-hello Captain McMillan!" He stuttered.

"I got you a little something!" Duncan pulled a small present from his back pocket.

Cody was confused. "R-really?" He asked. Duncan wasn't the type to give too many gifts.

Duncan pushed the present into Cody's hands. "It's deodorant. Do us all a favor. You stink!" Duncan motioned at Cody's armpits, always seeming to be wet.

Now it made sense to Cody. "Thanks…I guess." He said to Duncan as he headed into the office room.

Noah was waiting for him there, with the stack of presents on Duncan's desk. The rude gesture was back.

"Aww, don't be like that!" Duncan pleaded.

Noah continued to play on his phone silently.

"Well then!" Duncan scoffed. "I guess you don't want to play Super Santa Claus Massacre on the new PS3…" He insinuated.

Noah dropped his phone, and smiled. "Now you're speaking my language."

And in Los Angeles they say, that the Lieutenants heart grew three sizes that day…as he digitally murdered Santa Claus with his best friend and Captain. Even though he still made Duncan pay back the expenses.

_Merry Christmas, Internet!_

**A/N: I'm sorry if the quality of this chapter is a little bit off! I had to get it out by Christmas, so it ended up being a little rushed. The thing with Duncan sneezing is what happens when someone is talking about you. And in case you didn't know, Trinitrotoluene is the real name of TNT. I figured that Izzy **_**would**_** call it that. And even though most of the people reading this are already asleep, it technically **_**has**_** been released on Christmas. I guess Courtney was right, though. Worst Christmas Eve ever, right?**_e coHe commanded, H_


	3. Case 2 Rookies

_I think every actor wants to be an FBI or cop at one point._

There comes a time in everyone's life when you are faced with a decision. You can either take a bullet for someone else, or you can sit back and watch one of your friends die. Lindsay was faced with this kind of decision on the morning of January 12th.

She and Beth Strickland **(Inexperienced Assistant Inspector)**__were having a regular conversation over a cup of coffee out on one of the tables in front of the station. In big red letters on a sign it read, **DISTRICT POLICE HEADQUARTERS**. Below that was a big glass wall, allowing you to see Cody sweating it out at the secretary's desk, and various criminals being shipped into the temporary holding cells in the back of the station. Two metal tables with a few chairs were set up on the sidewalk.

Lindsay and Beth continued their regular conversation over a cup of Joe. "You're the last person I'd think would keep a sentimental object!" Beth remarked, drinking a swig of her coffee.

Lindsay played with a lock of her hair. "I really wouldn't call it _sentimental_." She replied dryly.

Beth was interrupted from her response by the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot. It was a sleek black Rolls Royce, with smoke practically curling out of the windows. The door flew open, and a very angry Chief Strike stepped out. Thunder practically crashed in the background as she crossed her arms, and her teeth grinded.

Lindsay looked on as Courtney walked with her spine straight toward the headquarters. "Uh oh," She breathed in despair.

"Is something wrong?" Beth wondered.

Lindsay scrunched her eyebrows together. "I think I may have done something bad," She thought for a minute.

Courtney stormed through the double doors, sending them crashing against the walls. Cody's head snapped up from typing a report, and began to babble something about fetching Courtney coffee as an extra liter of sweat added onto his normal output rate.

Courtney dismissed him with a flick of her wrist, swaggering through the doors to the office room. Duncan looked up from a case file, taking in Courtney's appearance. He smiled slightly to himself. "Did you like your gift, _Chief_?" He used the proper title, though he somehow made it come out disrespectful.

Courtney said nothing, her mouth formed into a tight line. She slowly walked toward Duncan's desk, taking on a Terminator-esque appearance. A single word escaped the confines of her mouth. "Lingerie…"

Duncan cocked his head, putting a hand to his ear. "What was that?" He questioned.

Courtney repeated the word slightly louder. "Lingerie."

Duncan narrowed his eyes questioningly. "I'm not getting you."

This time it was phrased as a question. "Lingerie?" The word sounded demonic.

"I don't catch your drift."

Courtney had finally reached his desk. She slammed both of her hands palm-down on his desk, getting up in his face. "You gave me lingerie." She stated menacingly. It was more of a threat of some kind than anything else.

Duncan smirked from ear to ear as Courtney breathed in his face. "Oh yeah! Did you like it?" He asked childishly.

Then Courtney snapped, completely losing control. "GYAAAAAAH!" She cried, lunging for Duncan's neck. Before the Police Captain could even squeak, Courtney had completely divorced his head from the rest of his body.

A final look of terror was frozen on his face as his lifeless head traveled through the air, to land on the tile in front of Noah's desk. Blood decorated the floor, ceiling and walls, as well as Courtney herself. The headless body slumped out of Duncan's chair, crashing to the ground.

Courtney fell to her knees, a crazed look in her eyes as she gazed upon her blood soaked hands. She chuckled slowly, actually feeling her sanity slip away.

The still open doorway was now occupied by Noah, a silent scream stuck in his mouth, hanging agape. A mug of coffee tumbled from his grasp, crashing onto the ground, further decorating the floor.

Courtney brought all of her composure back, standing up and dusting off her pants. "Lieutenant Coolidgebeard?" She called him to attention.

Noah was completely frozen; all he could do was reply. "Y-yes?" He answered.

Courtney breezily walked past him, out of the office room. "You'll be receiving a promotion." That was all that she said, exiting the entire building.

Lindsay snapped out of her murderous fantasy, making a snap decision to protect Duncan from imminent death. She cut Courtney off, blocking the doors. "Hey, Clarinda!" She greeted.

Courtney narrowed her eyes. "It's Courtney!" She corrected. "And that's Chief to you!" She corrected her correction angrily. She moved to sidestep the officer. Lindsay continued to deny her entry. "Do you have a problem?" Courtney cried. "I need to talk to Captain McMillan!"

Lindsay continued to stall. "I feel like we haven't talked in _forever_! How have you been?" She inquired.

"That's because I don't like you." Courtney flatly replied. "As your superior, I am now _commanding_ you to step aside!" She stomped her foot angrily.

"Well, Duncan is, like, _really _busy right now!" Lindsay lied.

Courtney gave up trying to enter the building. "Fine then!" She signaled at her car, the two doors in the backseat swinging open. "Just tell him that these two rookies need training!" Courtney stomped off to her car.

Two men stepped out of the car. The first was Tyler Bojenkins **(Clumsy Rookie Officer)**. He was lanky and wore the standard police uniform. His hair brown hair was slicked back to hide behind his hat. He yawned and stretched as he exited the car. As soon as he did, he tripped over a rock. With a small squeal, he was sent tumbling to the ground in a flurry of fumbling limbs.

Brady Abbott **(Charismatic Rookie Officer) **offered his hand, helping his comrade up. His features were chiseled and muscular. The face of this pinnacle of perfection could make any woman drop dead, dumbstruck. His brown hair looked tousled, and stood up tall. He flashed Lindsay and Beth a smile.

Beth fainted on the spot, landing at Lindsay's feet with a hand at her forehead. She winked, waving.

Duncan reclined at his desk with two feet up on his desk. He yawned, and flicked a booger off to the side. The captain eyeballed the two rookies standing in front of him with disinterest.

"Is this guy really our captain?" Tyler whispered to Brady, who shrugged in response.

Duncan took his feet down, and put his elbows on the desk, forming a bridge with his hands for his chin to rest on. Then he spoke. "If I asked either of you to, would you murder the man standing beside you?" He asked slowly.

Brady and Tyler's eyes both widened. "Are you asking to get us to pledge our allegiance to you, sir?" Brady asked with a salute.

Duncan snickered childishly. "No, I just thought that it would be really funny if I did!" He laughed, slapping his knee.

_Is this clown for real?_ Brady thought angrily.

Duncan yawned again, stretching his arms. "Alrighty then, let's get down to business." He said, pulling out a sheet of paper. "It says here in this report from Chief Tight-ass that you're supposed to go patrolling with Officer Busty today…" Duncan read it out.

Brady and Tyler lit up. They naturally assumed that "Officer Busty" would be the cute blonde girl that they saw outside.

Then Duncan smirked. "But that wouldn't be much fun for me, would it?" Duncan laughed.

Tyler raised one eyebrow in question. "…what do you mean?" He asked nervously.

_"In God we trust, all others we run through NCIC (National Crime Information Center)."_

Brady was beginning to question his determination to be a police officer as his liver was shot out of his stomach. A police car—piloted more than driven—by Eva screeched down the street. It left a trail of pissed off drivers, skid marks, and desecrated street corners behind it. Tyler and Brady were trapped in the backseat completely against their will. Brady considered jumping out before any more of his organs were splattered on the street, but at that velocity the drop would kill him.

Tyler's seatbelt was rendered useless as his nose hit the back of the driver's seat when Eva successfully ignored a stop sign. He gripped his nose, the scent of fresh blood filling his nostrils.

Eva scoffed, turning completely around in her seat to face the two gentlemen. "Chill out, ladies. We're almost there!" She spat at them with disdain.

_"WATCH THE ROAD!"_ Brady and Tyler both screamed, pointing at something through the window.

Eva jerked the wheel to the right, narrowly avoiding the gasoline truck that pulled out of the intersection in front of them. The two rookies held on to each other and screamed like frightened school girls as the car swerved out of control. They spun in tight circles, all four wheels of the cruiser leaving the ground a few times. Civilians screamed, dodging to both sides trying to avoid the lurching death trap.

Eva remained silent and she smirked and gripped the wheel with icy determination. She "drove" the car into a parking lot as it more or less careened out of control. The only thing that stopped them from continuing their rampage was connecting hard with a car.

A large crunch caused by colliding metal echoed across what appeared to be a gas station. The only thing stopping Eva's skull from cracking open on the dashboard was an airbag, which inflated fast. Eva's head was thrown back against the seat. A muffled "Ow…" escaped her lips before she blacked out.

The door to the VW Volkswagon Jetta they had hit flew open, revealing a very angry, gangster-looking, dark man. He was huge, wearing a muscle shirt that exposed his huge muscles. Tyler swore they would explode at any moment. His tattered jeans had slash marks all over them, revealing many scars beneath. But his face was the worst part. It looked like God had played a cruel joke on his mother. There was a large bump over two deep-set eyes, one larger than the other. There was a scar on top of his huge lips, making it look like he had tried to eat a stapler when he was younger.

Tyler and Brady dizzily stumbled out of the car. Brady massaged a cut on his forehead.

The black man advanced on them with death in his eyes. "Yo, mofo, what the hell if yo f***ing problem?" He yelled other various profanities at them.

Brady held up his hands, trying to calm the man. "Listen, I'm sure that we can resolve this peacefully." Brady flashed his picture perfect smile.

The man whipped a gun out of his pocket and pointed it at Brady's forehead. He gulped. "Mother f***er you'd better pay fo my car!" The man gestured at his truck, which was scrunched up like a soda can. The engine of Eva's cruiser didn't fare much better.

Tyler was panicking. They hadn't been given radios or badges in their short visit to the station. They did, however, have guns. Tyler was about to whip out his, when Brady took action.

The rookie stared coolly at the gangster. Then he moved with incredible speed. He kicked the gun right out of the man's hand, sending it twirling into the air. Brady jumped backward, dodging the man's angry punch at him. He pulled a set of handcuffs out from his back pocket. Before the man could move, one end had been clamped around his wrist; the other end attached to Eva's windshield.

Brady smirked, and turned to Tyler. His jaw was on the ground. He quickly pulled his composure back together. "What was that?" He cried in admiration.

Brady made of show of examining his nails. "I did acrobatics." He stated.

From behind Eva's car, an angry voice screamed, "Twirl your way out of this, ballet boy!" Brady barely had time to move his head before the windows of the cruiser were smashed. A single bullet rocketed from the shattered glass. It missed his head by a hair, literally. A few locks flew into the air.

Both of the rookies ducked to the ground as several more came their way. They only cracked against the pavement. Tyler took stock of the situation. After ducking around the edge of the car, he saw that there were five or six men emerging from cars around the station. They were standard gangsters. They wore tattered jeans and various offensive shirts, with missing teeth and guns in their back pockets. A shootout would be extremely dangerous in a gas station. They could cause a serious fire, not to mention getting themselves killed. All of the people getting gas had already fled the scene, as well as all of the people in the convenience store next to it. The police ought to arrive in a few minutes, but they still had to hold out until then.

Brady took Eva's unconscious body out of the car, and put it on the ground next to them.

Brady jumped backward to avoid the gangster's other hand, which was flailing wildly at him. Tyler surveyed the members, who were acting weirdly. They began to move backward, starting at only baby steps. Now they were taking several steps at a time. Smiles tickled their lips, and Tyler only realized what they were doing as one took aim.

They were aiming at Eva's gas tank, on their side of the car. But why would they kill their own leader? It didn't matter. If the tank exploded, the car would explode—killing both of the rookies, Eva, and the "leader". Hell, the whole gas station could go up in flames! There was only one way to stop that bullet. Tyler would take a bullet in the process, but he'd be able to ensure the safety of his friends, and anyone in the immediate area. He sniffled. This was really what it meant to be a police man, wasn't it? To lay down your life to ensure the safety of the citizens. Tyler came to terms with his resolve, rising to his feet, his gun clenched tightly in his trembling hand.

He moved just as the shot was fired. Tyler's body—spread out like cat trying to convince a bear that it was bigger—slid in front of the protective plate. His arms spread out to both sides, trying to block the bullet. It whistled through the air toward Tyler. Brady rose to his feet, shouting something about getting out of the way. It was lost to Tyler's ears.

The bullet seemed to freeze in front of his body, during a single moment of confusion. For a fleeting second, Tyler wondered if the bullet would kill him. He didn't want to die. He didn't know anyone who would ever want to die. So why was he standing in front of a bullet? Tyler's eyes widened, Brady and Eva's faces flashing briefly at the back of his mind. Were they worth the loss of his own life? Tyler didn't want to die. If he moved, he had a fleeting chance of survival. That was it! He would throw himself out of the way, and then—

_WHACK! _Ten thousand spears penetrated Tyler's stomach. Tyler was left breathless, falling to the ground. His hands flew to his stomach, which had its own personal inferno raging inside. Warm liquid spurted against Tyler's arms, also staining his brand new uniform. Tyler heaved blood onto the pavement. The strange thing was that he didn't feel a thing. No pain, no sorrow, just emptiness. Brady looking down at him and police sirens vaguely registered before Tyler lost consciousness.

The sun began to set on the horizon as Captain McMillan arrived on the scene. He growled and wrinkled his nose as he gazed over the report somebody he didn't know gave him. It was if he could smell blood still in the air. Brady ran up to him from where a paramedic had been inspecting him for injuries.

Duncan turned around to face him. "You've done plenty today!" He said. "Why aren't you at home?" He asked.

Brady had a thousand questions buzzing around in his head that he could barely compose a sentence. They all came tumbling out at once. "!" He babbled.

Duncan sighed and made calming gestures with his hands. "Calm down! Calm down! I'll tell you everything that I know." Duncan said, looking around at all of the police work going on around him, as if he wanted to be doing something else at the moment. "Alright, listen because I'm not explaining this twice. The people that you encountered are a gang called the Preists. They've been terrorizing this area for months now." Duncan explained.

Something clicked in Brady's head. "I've read about them in the papers! They're ruthless and don't afraid of anything." He remembered.

"Exactly." Duncan nodded. "And the man you arrested wasn't their leader, he was just an angry man with an attitude." Brady blushed in embarrassment. "The Priests only jumped in because they're fans of conflict." Duncan finished.

Brady rubbed his arm and looked at the ground. "So I arrested that guy for nothing?" He asked.

"Not exactly." Duncan said. "We can book him for an unregistered gun and several unpaid speeding tickets." Brady sighed in resignation. "Hey, we all have some crazy stories about our first arrests." Duncan smirked from ear to ear, looking off intot eh distance, as if remembering better times.

Brady arched an eyebrow, not sure if he wanted to hear that story. "Okay then…"

_"Yeah, we have a quota. Two more tickets and my wife gets a toaster oven."_

It was a full two weeks before Tyler was even allowed out of the hospital. He pushed the double doors open, and strode through purposefully. His back was straight as he stepped inside. He smiled to himself. Cody was sweating it out at his desk as usual, urgently typing something into a computer from the Pleistocene era.

"Where's Officer Parker?" Tyler thought he must have appeared pretty heroic when he sacrificed himself, so he figured it would be a piece of cake to score a chick like Lindsay.

Cody wiped his nose with his sleeve. "T-taking a n-nap in the b-b-back!" He exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, don't have a heart attack." Tyler calmed him. Cody nodded, going back to his work. Tyler sighed. It looked like scoring was going to have to wait. He decided to go see Duncan.

He strolled through the door to the office rooms. Duncan looked up with a bored expression on his face. "Oh, you're still alive." He stated nonchalantly, with a yawn.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Tyler cried, his fists clenched by his side.

Duncan scratched his Mohawk. "Oh, nothing. How's the recovery going?" He inquired, changing the subject.

"Well at least I'm not dead, asshole." Tyler sniffed, pointing his nose in the other direction. The door swung closed behind him.

Duncan smirked. "Then I guess you don't wanna go play in the game room?" He jerked a thumb at the door in the corner.

Tyler rushed over enthusiastically, looking like a dog with a bone. "What are we waiting for?" He asked.

"That's the spirit." Duncan said.

_"I've never had a problem with drugs. I've had problems with the__police catching me____doing drugs_."

Tyler stared angrily at the screen, his eyebrows knit together with his head resting on his hand. "I…have…a…yuuummy…roast…leg…of…" He read off the screen.

Duncan's eyes were red as the words appeared on the screen. He slammed on A screaming, "YAK! YAK! JUST SAY YAK! Y-A-K! YAAAK!"

"Shut up, you have scurvy." Tyler informed him wearily.

Duncan threw his controller on the ground once more, destroying the plastic as he rose to his feet. "Damn, I hate Illusion of Gaya!" He told the man next to him.

Tyler fanned his hair with a stray chip wrapper. Sweat was rolling off of him almost as much as Cody. "Did you turn up the heat in here?" He asked Duncan.

Duncan turned to him, a smile tickling the edge of his lips. "If you're trying to tell me that I'm hot; A) I already know, and B) I don't swing that way." He said.

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Idiot." He muttered.

Duncan's nose twitched. "Do you smell something burning?" He asked Tyler.

The officer smirked. "Maybe it's just your flaming personality?" He suggested with his eyebrows arched.

Duncan narrowed his eyes. "Touché." He said. "Cody, did you burn my toast again!" He cried, moving to open the door. When his hand touched the doorknob, he recoiled as if he was bit by a snake. A light tone of red was hinting on it. Duncan put his arm out to stop Tyler from touching it himself. "Stand back." He growled. Rolling up his sleeve, he charged at the door. He slammed into it with his right shoulder. It crashed inward, and Duncan collided with the floor on the other side.

Tyler gasped at what he saw in the office room. Fire. Tons and tons of fire. Heat surged toward him as soon as the door opened, and completely engulfed his body in seconds. Flames bit away at Duncan and Noah's desks, with stray papers flying around, spreading the smoke. The whole room was bathed in orange light. With a crash, a flaming support beam crashed through the wall, sending plaster and dust into the air. It barely missed Duncan, who was just getting off of the floor.

When he was on his feet, he covered his mouth with his shirt sleeve. Tyler quickly did the same, but the sharp intake of breath had already introduced the smoke to his body. As the tainted air reached his heart, he was hit by a coughing fit. His knees went weak as the wound in his stomach began to burn.

"Come on!" Duncan screamed around his arm. He dashed toward the door at the opposite end of the room, and Tyler forced his body to follow. Duncan kicked down that door too, and they were faced with a terrible sight.

The main lobby was in shambles. It looked the Devil had risen up from hell, and then took a crap all over the room. The ceiling was caving in, with wooden beams crashing through at several points. Cody's desk was deserted, he having assumedly ran once the fire started. His computer had flames licking at it, sending sparks into the air. The tile on the floor had cracks spreading all over it, the fire feeding on whatever was beneath it. The room was bathed red with evil light. Tyler knew more than to gasp this time.

He clenched his teeth, and charged through after Duncan. He felt the fire tickling his ankles, but ignored it and pressed on. Duncan ignored the door handle, knowing that it would just be searing hot. Instead, he smashed through the glass, sending shards everywhere. Tyler dived through the now open hole, using all of his remaining energy. He hit the concrete on the other side hard. He lost control of his body, and his limbs sprawled everywhere. When he regained his bearings, he got up to his knees and gave several dry heaves. Dust and ash clouds peeked out from between his teeth.

Duncan got to his feet much faster. The look in his eyes was half loss and sorrow, and half anger. His teeth were clenched, and the whites of his knuckles were white. He spoke with a scary tone behind his words. "How did this happen?" Tyler only then noticed that it was directed at Cody, who was sprawled on the ground, staring at the fire.

Cody's eyes kept flicking between Duncan and the orange flames burning their station. "I d-d-d-don't know! One second everything was n-n-normal, and then," he gestured toward the flames, "_this_ happened!" He explained.

Tyler looked in anguish at the building. Inside, you could see the flames getting taller, destroying more of their home. Heat radiated from it but Tyler didn't notice as a sudden thought entered his head. He turned to Cody. He spoke slowly as the single terrorizing thought spread through his conscience. "Didn't you say that Lindsay was taking a nap in the back!" He cried urgently.

Duncan's eyes widened, and he also turned to the secretary. The look on his face said it all.

Tyler rose fast to his feet, ignoring his body's screams of protest. Before he had time to think, he launched himself through the hole in the door.

"It's dangerous in there!' Duncan stated the obvious, reaching out to try and stop the officer, but it was too late. Duncan heard the fire sirens in the distance, but knew that they would be too late. He bit his lip, looking back at the burning building.

The heat inside was literally 1000 degrees more intense then it had been a few minutes ago. Tyler was caught off guard, but kept moving. Smoke billowed around him like a blanket, almost completely obscuring his vision. Tyler's entire body was being roasted alive as he dashed through an already busted door. He had no idea where he was going, so chose a random door. He kicked it, albeit it took much of his remaining energy, it swung open surprisingly easy.

He found him some kind of holding room. Four unpretentious cells with wrought iron bars in between them contained a simple cot and silver bucket, which Tyler guessed was used for…you know what. What was even more surprising than the benign door was that one of the cells was occupied.

A woman sat calmly on one of the cots, with one leg folded over the other. She had black hair, with teal streaks. She was dressed casually, though rather Goth-like. Her black eyes were piercing, though she wore a warm smile. Tyler found himself automatically liking this girl.

"Who are you! We have to get out of here!" Tyler ran forward, reaching for the lock on the cell. For a moment he had forgotten about the heat.

Then she cried, "Stop!" making Tyler hesitate. "Go save your friend," She said.

Tyler shook his head reaching again for the lock. "But you're trapped! We'll all get out of here_" He was interrupted by some force colliding with his cheek. He was thrown backward, colliding with the drywall behind him. It was weak due to the fire, and collapsed. Tyler fell with it, onto wooden ground. He was then painfully aware of the immense heat and his throbbing stomach.

When he looked up, the woman was standing with her fist between the bars. None of her skin or clothing was touching the hot bars. He hadn't remembered her even getting up from the cot. The smile had now disappeared from her lips. "I'll be fine. Go. Now." She commanded.

Tyler was then compelled to believe her. He looked around and now found himself in the hallway. Burning piles of rubbish were strewn everywhere, and the smoke was getting worse. After taking one last look at the woman, who was now sitting on the cot again, he struggled to his feet and ran down the hall.

In front of a door, several burning beams were piled up, completely barricading it. Tyler heard muffled screams coming from inside. _Lindsay! _His mind registered the voice. He rushed over, and instantly wished he hadn't. Hot ash was strewn everywhere in the area, and burned through the soles of his shoes. He did a number, scrambling away.

Tyler could feel his energy slipping away. At that point he could barely feel his skin burning. His tongue swelled in his mouth, and his vision was going blurry. If he weren't in such a bad situation, he probably would've called the experience "trippy".

For the second time in a month he barely expected to make it out alive. Then something cracked over his head. He barely felt the mysterious assault before his eyes rolled up into his eyes, and he crumpled to the ground, out cold.

**A/N: Cliffhanger ending! Oh, fun stuff. Is Tyler dead? Who is the mysterious woman in the cell? And why is Cody's personality so completely out of character! Find out at least one of these answers next time!**

** Credit goes out to 'Can't Stop Believing' by Auroral Sea! Go read her story to find out why. Or not, I don't care. Have fun with that.**He He H


	4. Case 2 The Gang Bang

Duncan's arms were limp at his sides. He had a dead look in his eyes, as if his mind was elsewhere. Stumbling forward a few paces, the captain's legs gave out and he went down on his knees. He brushed the ground with his right hand, and some of the black dust came with it. Dead-eyed, he eyeballed at it with disinterest.

He lay in the ruins of what used to be the District Police Department. The ground was layered with a thick coating of ash and dust. The stench of smoke and shattered dreams floated in the air. Here and there, a wall or piece of floor would have survived, but all in all, the police station was gone, and Duncan had only one thing to say about it.

"HOW THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN!"

"_As a cop, I dealt with every kind of bum and criminal. They all have more integrity than some Hollywood people.__"  
_

Courtney stood on the road, observing the tragedy. She scoffed and flipped hair over her shoulder at Duncan's public display of emotion. His sadness was understandable, but he was overdoing it. She turned to Bridgette, who was constantly in her wake. "Do we have any leads on how this happened?"

Bridgette raised an eyebrow, looking at a clipboard she produced from hammer space. "The people we've assigned to the job haven't pinpointed where the fire started yet, but it won't be long." She informed her.

"See to it," Courtney commanded, moving away.

"I can tell you who started this fire." She heard from behind her.

She hadn't noticed Duncan approach until he spoke. She decided to humor him due to previous events. "Who?" She asked.

Duncan clenched his fists and ground his teeth, taking a step away dramatically. "That goddamned gang, the Priests! They waited for Tyler to get out of the hospital, and then lit the building on fire while he was inside! I'll kill them for what they did!" He growled through his teeth.

Courtney titled her head to the side, sympathetically looking at the man in front of her. "What happened was unfortunate, but we need to move on." She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow quizzically. "But why would they do that?" She asked.

Duncan turned on her, pointing a finger in the air. "But they're excessively violent, remember? This is definitely something they would do!" His eyes were red rimmed, and more than a few hairs were out of place. His Mohawk tilted at a dangerous angle.

"I see the logic in your reasoning, but we have no proof. It's not like we can march on down to their crack house guns a' blazing!" Courtney cried.

Duncan narrowed his eyes, whipping out his gun and cocking it with a flourish. "Actually, that's exactly what I plan on doing." He took a step in the other direction, but Courtney caught his arm.

"What gives you the right!" She challenged.

Duncan pulled a crumpled up piece of paper from his back pocket, and held it up to Courtney. "This," He said, matter-of-factly. Courtney took it from him pinched between her forefinger and thumb as if she might catch a disease. "Be careful, there are a few…vulgarities." He smirked.

Courtney examined the paper, a scowl evolving across her lips as she got further in. When she was done, she turned back to Duncan. "Are they really that flexible?" She asked.

Duncan shrugged. "I dunno, but look at this!" He pointed to a symbol at the bottom of the page. Two gently curving lines intersected in the center, in an even X. Lightly shaded around it was a sloppy cross with two straight lines intersecting in the middle. On the outside, a small line crossed through the protruding edges. At the bottom and top, a dot was placed.

Courtney nodded earnestly. "That's the Priests symbol!" She gasped.

Duncan smiled. "Exactly. Now, are you going to let me cap a hoe, or we going to stand here and flap our gums?"

Courtney copied his smile, an evil glimmer in her eye. She cleared her throat dramatically. "Allow me to revise my previous statement." She explained. "What gives you the right…to go without me?" She corrected.

"Let's kick ass!" Duncan smirked from ear to ear.

Running excitedly to the parking lot, Duncan hopped into the driver's seat of his police cruiser, and firmly put two hands on the wheel. He jammed the key into the ignition a little more forcefully than necessary. His foot hovered over the gas pedal expectantly. He looked up to find Courtney looking at him contemptuously from outside. "What?" Duncan asked, anxious to be on their way.

Courtney narrowed her eyes and stuck out her bottom lip. "I'm driving." She stated.

"But this is my car!" Duncan argued.

"But I outrank you!"

"You don't even know where we're going!"

"But I wanna drive!"

They argued back and forth for several minutes, until Duncan gave up, stomping over to the passenger side. Courtney gracefully put herself into the driver's seat, and started the car. "Alright," She began purposefully. "Where are we going?" She pinched her eyebrows together.

Duncan sighed. "The second left straight ahead," He said.

Courtney's lips formed a tight line. "How do you know where these guys are based?" She inquired.

"It's not like these guys just showed up yesterday!" Duncan cried. "Now drive!" He commanded harshly, crossing his arms across his chest.

Once they were on their way, screeching down the road with the siren on, Courtney had to ask. "What's the plan?"

Duncan looked at her surprised. He raised his gun. "I thought we had an understanding that they would have a little meeting with me and Scruffy." He said.

"You named your gun Scruffy?" Courtney asked with disbelief.

"What wrong with Scruffy?" Duncan's eyebrow creased angrily.

"Oh, nothing." Courtney turned her eyes back onto the road. "But I had a feeling that would be your answer." She began to explain. "The letter was signed by some guy named Longstorm," Courtney held up the note for Duncan to read. Sure enough, his name was at the bottom of the note. "So I pose as some low-life street trash looking for a good time, and once I'm in, I can incapacitate them, when you and "Scruffy" come in and take the rest of them out." She explained.

Duncan arched his eyebrow, his eyes widening in surprise. "…low-life street trash?" He repeated. "Are you sure that isn't too much of a stretch?" He didn't wait for her to respond. "No you're right it's perfect." He nodded.

Looking around, Duncan's directions had brought her to the wrong neighborhood. It looked as if the sun didn't rise in this area. Shabby houses lined the street, looking like they were held together with duct tape. Or worse. Weeds and other fowl plants grew uncontrollably in the yards. Several things were lit on fire just for light on the side of the road. And was that a blood smear on the pavement?

Courtney decided to look straight ahead instead of analyzing their surroundings further. Duncan motioned to the side of the road. "Pull over here," He said.

Courtney did as he instructed, moving behind a thick Evergreen tree. Because of the shadow, they were completely obscured from view from the road. Courtney felt compelled to say something cool and encouraging. "Let's go gang bang!" She cheered.

Duncan turned in his seat to stare at her with eyes wider than grapefruits. His eyebrows were arched in surprise. The comment caught him completely off guard. "Excuse me?" He asked.

"You know…" Courtney rolled her eyes, annoyed at Duncan for not getting her youthamism. "Make a gang go _bang_!" She explained, elaborating further with hand gestures.

"Right…" Duncan held up his pointer finger in the universal signal for 'one minute'. He got out, and swung around to the trunk.

Courtney drummed her fingers on the wheel, and couldn't help but wonder what he was getting. Were they near the base? Was Duncan getting some kind of high tech gun out of the trunk? Her curiosity was only heightened by the cruiser's trunk creaking closed. For all Courtney knew, Duncan could be hiding a disembodied head in a burlap sack, only to whip out and get her to faint, after which he would take pictures and post them on the Internet. Scratch that idea, it's stupid.

Duncan flopped down into the passenger's seat again, holding a burlap sack in his lap. Courtney automatically cringed away. "It seems like you've never seen a disembodied head before." Duncan said scornfully. The chief's top lip automatically curled up, and she moved to exit the car before she was infected with murderer disease. "Kidding!" Duncan mended the bridge, dumping the real contents of the sack onto the dashboard.

Courtney raised an eyebrow, and recoiled. She could actually _feel_ the stench of trash enveloping her. "Why do have these in your car?" Courtney cried.

Duncan let a chuckle slip out. "I wouldn't worry about it. But if you're going to fit in as "some low-life street trash" you'll have to get some new clothes." He explained, gesturing to the "clothes" now strewn across the front seats.

Courtney said nothing for a while, fixing Duncan was a cold, hard stare. "I hate you, McMillan."

"_I always thought that the badge a cop has was more like the shield that Captain America has. It's an obvious sign of good and something you'll protect other people with, but it will also protect you."_

It was 15 minutes until, after extreme coaxing, Courtney donned the outfit Duncan had laid out. Tight fitting jeans, with an unbuttoned trench coat revealing the fancy bra beneath. Duncan couldn't help but fix his eyes on the magnificent, tanned midriff sported on Courtney's stomach.

Courtney put her hands on her hips, and treated Duncan to the same glare that he had become accustomed to recently. "I hope you're happy." She said coldly. Luckily, Duncan was able to employ his cat-like reflexes to dodge the ensuing slap.

Quickly positioning himself on the other side of the car, Duncan decided to follow up before Courtney could. "Well, you'd better get going!" He said with an awkward smile. "The base is right down the street, and you'll also need this." He slid an empty beer bottle across the hood to Courtney's side.

She picked it up, and sniffed the top. The pungent odor made her crinkle her nose. She held the bottle as far away as she could. "This is disgusting!" She reported to Duncan.

"You don't have to drink it, just pretend like you did." Duncan explained.

Courtney didn't smoke, but she could have really used a cigarette at that moment.

She gripped the beer bottle loosely, stumbling drunkenly out of the protective shadows of the trees. The run down shack that Duncan had pointed out came into focus in front of her. She came close to tripping over a low bush, which had probably been growing out of control for years. Loose dirt shifted under the shabby sneakers Duncan had given her. The building had one story. Auburn paint peeled off of rotting wood. Shingles on the roof were constantly cracking and falling to the ground.

She moved up to a wooden door that was practically hanging on one hinge. She held the beer bottle by the neck, and rapped a few times with the base. After a few very long moments, an eye hole slid open. Two cold, hard eyes were revealed, staring into Courtney's very soul. A raspy voice called, "What is your business 'ere?"

Courtney batted her eyelashes and pouted. "I was just here…for…Longstorm." She replied in her most slut-like voice.

The eyes blinked once, the only sign of weakness. "Are you sure that a sexy fox like you is into that kind of thing?" He inquired, wiggling two skinny, black eyebrows.

Courtney held his gaze, although she did wonder what he meant. "Hell yes, fruit cup." She liked that last part.

"Well come on in!" He said slowly.

The door swung open, although Courtney had her suspicions that it even had an operating lock in the first place.

She waltzed in, and to further her purposes, winked at the man who had greeted her. It took all of her self control not to laugh at his appearance. He was a completely bald, light-skinned man, who would probably only come up to her neck bone. And by no means was Courtney a very tall person.

The inside of their shack wasn't any more impressive than the outside. Moss crawled across the floor. If there was a basement, Courtney feared that the floor would give in, and she—along with anyone else in the building—would tumble into it.

Courtney hadn't noticed the men beginning to form a ring around her until it had been completed. There were eight of them in total, including the bellhop. Each of their faces was more dastardly and gruesome than the last. All of their mouths were twisted into hideous smirks, and their dirty hands hovered in the air. Courtney knew what was coming.

One of them, Courtney didn't know and didn't care which one, spoke. "The boss is busy right now," Some kind of strange hissing/purring sound came from his throat.

Another once of them chimed in. "But you can have a little bit of fun out here, if you'd like…" It wasn't stated as a question.

Courtney blew a lock of hair out of her eyes. It looked like she'd have to get her hands a little dirtier than she'd originally planned.

Duncan snorted, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the cruiser. It was getting boring, sitting on the sidelines, not even knowing what was going on inside. Courtney had gone in a few minutes ago, and there had been no noises, bad or otherwise. The worry was eating him alive. He chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. Immersed in thought, he hadn't noticed the two men approach his car.

They were both Mexicans, one carrying a gun, the other with a knife. The one with the gun banged on Duncan's window, making him jump. Regaining his composure, he rolled down the window casually. He arched an eyebrow. "Can I help you?" He asked haughtily.

"Get out of the car." He nodded his head to the side, and smiled to reveal several missing teeth. The look in his eyes said to Duncan that this man had been drinking, and his judgment was a little bit off. An example being that he didn't see POLICE painted onto the side of the car.

Duncan smiled. It was about time that he got to have some fun. "I don't think so." He defiantly stated.

"Yo, do you wanna get cut?" The man behind him threatened. He jerked his knife in Duncan's direction to emphasize his point.

Duncan said nothing, fixing the two men with a steely glare that he had perfected over the years. He opened his door quickly, bashing Man #1 against the metal. The gun flew from his hand as he toppled to the grass. The second man barely had time to respond before Duncan foot flew out the door. It was soundly lodged in his gut, sending him flying backward. It was all one fluid motion, barely taking a second.

Time to go, Duncan thought to himself.

The fight broke out fast. The first three men to get close got a very unfortunate surprise. Courtney broke her empty beer bottle over the first one's head, instantly incapacitating him. Courtney jammed the heel of her shoe into the second's neck, and he flew backward. Courtney followed up on the third, hitting him in the nose with a palm-heel strike. Those three taken care of momentarily, she moved to next two enemies.

They seemed to be the only ones armed in the room. The gang hadn't been expecting this kind of resistance. Angered at the harsh treatment of their companions, they whipped out guns. Other members moved quickly, not wanting to get hit accidentally. Before their first shots could be fired, however, Courtney whipped out her own handgun from her back pocket. The men had been more obsessed with her upper regions, and had failed to notice the large lump in her pants.

Courtney was extremely proud of her gun, and hated to waist ammunition on these cretins. It was a Makarov PM pistol_, manufactured in the early 70s by the Soviet Union. She fired off two quick rounds, each of them hitting their mark, burying into the skins of the two shooters. They dropped the guns, opting to fall and clutch their shins. Many words, most that Courtney had heard before and some that she hadn't, spewed from their mouths._

_ Somebody grabbed Courtney's arms from behind, holding her in place. Dropping her gun, she was defenseless. She might have been able to outmaneuver them, but they would definitely win in a contest of brute strength. Another one stepped in front of her. "You're gonna pay, girlie!" He cackled, pulling back his arm, a switchblade clutched in it. Courtney gritted her teeth, and utilized her legs. She stretched her right one up, and brought it crashing down onto the attacking man's left shoulder. She brought him all the way to the floor, hearing a resounding crack. The man cried out painfully, his mouth the size of a watermelon._

_ Courtney used the momentum to throw herself backward, onto her holder. After making contact with a perfectly sculpted chest, they were both thrown onto the floor. The large man took the full heat of the contact, the air being forced out of his lungs. Courtney quickly rolled out of his range, coming back to her feet. Just as well too, because two of the men were coming at her again._

_ It was the man who greeted her at the door, with the man whose nose she smashed. It was flat against his face, blood still flowing out of it. He had armed himself with a metal baseball bat._

_ The short man got to her first. He was clumsy though, and Courtney easily danced out of the way. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and hoisted him up in front of her. Due to his size and lack of muscle mass, he was incredibly light. He acted as a shield, taking the full blow from the second man's bat. His face shattered under the blow as he was ripped from Courtney's grasp, hurtling against the floorboards. Before Flat-nose could rear up again, Courtney grabbed one of his wrists. She brought it down against her knee, bending it back the wrong way._

_ "Ah!" The man stumbled backward, clutching his limp wrist against his stomach. The bat clattered to the ground. Courtney flew forward with incredible skill, landing a jump kick against his forehead. He flew backward two meters, and hit his head against the wall. A blood stain was left behind as he fell to the ground with a concussion._

_ Courtney panted, allowing one moment of rest. The situation got even worse after that. The big man who grabbed her from behind, the guy with the broken shoulder, and the first attacker who got hit with the beer bottle all got up and advanced on her. The men who originally handled guns had fled, leaving their guns on the floor. Broken Arm and Beer Bottle picked them up, and then Courtney realized that Big was wielding her Makarov. Courtney gulped, realizing that she was now backed up against the wall perpendicular to the door. There was nowhere to run._

_ If she moved, they would shoot. If she stayed still, they would shoot. Either way, she would end up as the equivalent of human Swiss cheese. She closed her eyes. She'd led a good life, rising up from her family's fortune to accomplish her dream of becoming Chief of Police._

There was only one plan of escape that she could construct at the time. In the moment directly before they fired, before they could change direction, she would dive to the side, narrowly avoiding the bullets and gaining a shot to get out the door. She sniffled. This was really what it meant to be the Chief of Police, wasn't it? To lay down your life to ensure the safety of the people around you. Courtney came to terms with her resolve, rising to her feet, bending her knees and clenching her fists.

There it was! They all simultaneously tightened their trigger fingers, giving Courtney her opportunity. She dived to her left, and the shots erupted behind her. The wall was torn apart, and Courtney ears began ringing. It threw off her balance more than she anticipated, and she caught her foot on the bald guy's unconscious body, and she fell hard on the floor. She lost her breath, and felt that moment of clarity that every soldier feels directly before they die.

It all happened as soon as she closed her eyes. The entire wall exploded, sending wood chips and dust into the air. The sound was huge, like a rocket had been set off outside. A car horn sounded loudly in Courtney's ears, and she felt a huge presence fly over her body, landing with a crash across the room. All of the men with the guns screamed, and a sickening crunch followed. Thin planks of wood rained down, battering Courtney's body. And then there was silence. As the dust settled, Courtney found it safe to open her eyes.

The scene was astounding. Junk was littered all around the already messy room, which was now open to the world. A part of the ceiling had also caved in, showering the building with wood. Courtney was now laying in one of these piles of debris. On the other side of the room, the gentle hum of a motor was heard. And surprisingly, Duncan's cruiser was sitting in the middle of the floor! On the other side, the three men's bodies lay battered and broken in a heap.

Duncan sat nonchalantly in the driver's seat, eyeing the gang members with disinterest. He yawned, and stretched his arms out as much as he could in the car. After that, he glanced in Courtney's direction, and waved enthusiastically, flashing his signature smirk.

Courtney bit her lip angrily, storming up to the car with as much confidence and anger as she could muster while still in awe at the amazing stunt.

"What the hell was that!" A feminine voice screamed, although it wasn't hers. In the corner of the now demolished bungalow, a door flew open. It hit the wall so hard that the rotting wood actually splintered. Out of the doorway, a tall woman appeared. She wore fish net stockings, partially covered by a fancy dark purple cape. A long braid of sleek black hair reached down to her waist. Purple lips were twisted into a pompous smirk that didn't reach her eyes. They were mesmerizing. It looked like her blue-gray irises were staring into the depths of your soul and pulling out all of your bravery.

An involuntary chill shuddered through Courtney's body. "So," The woman spoke. "Which one of you woke me up from my nap?" She spoke angrily, gesturing with her right hand at the gaping whole in the building.

Regaining her composure, Courtney thrusted her pistol which had been hastily recovered, at her. "Where's Longstorm?" She cried. After all of this hubbub, she was at her wit's end.

To her annoyance, the woman only stood there. It didn't even look like she registered what Courtney said at all. She yawned, suddenly turning her demeaning gaze on Duncan. "Are you the one?" She asked.

Duncan only blinked in confusion. Most people would be angry about you driving a car through their wall. "Um…okay?" He finally said.

The woman body was then racked by a serious of tremors and palpitations. Her eyes took on a murderous gleam, as she tightened her fists and clenched her teeth. _"UNFORGIVABLE!"_ She shrieked. Turning on her heel, she briefly disappeared into the room she came from.

Duncan and Courtney's eyebrows were arched in surprise. For once, she was speechless. "This girl is weird." Duncan observed casually.

Then she returned, heaving a gigantic metal contraption over her shoulder. It was multi-barreled, and had a large tank on the side. Duncan realized what it was only as it was being aimed at him. The words _Hasta la vista, baby _barely registered in his mind before he was screaming at Courtney to move. It seemed like she had also recognized the weapon, and took a leap backwards; she shielded her eyes for the following torrent.

Flames leapt out of the triple barrels, twisting and flying into the air. Both of the law enforcers gasped at the sight. The light filled the entire room, bringing with it an evil heat. Courtney was safely out of range, but Duncan had neglected to get out of the car after his stunt.

The all-consuming evil climbed over his car, looking for an opening. The door was shut, so there was no immediate way in. Duncan felt as if he was about to melt. Then, all of the anger and frustration from earlier came surging back in one incredible blast. His pupils dilated, and his mind hardened into one iron-hard spear point of focus. There was only one thought resonating through his mind.

_Kill. Her._

Duncan floored the gas, and the car surged forward in response. The flames seared against the metal, launching a front on his tires as well. The vehicle screeched forward in a way that can only be described as _angry_.

Courtney had to shield her eyes as the gleam off of the flaming car caught her. "You idiot!" She screeched, even though she knew Duncan couldn't hear her. She felt it unnecessary to even try and arrest anyone at this point.

One lone battle cry was torn from the fray. _"This is for Tyler!"_

Without warning, the room began to shake. The floorboards raddled, and Courtney could actually feel the nails slipping from their holes. A thundering echoed around the building. She quickly took a knee, and looked around. Flames were now ringing her, and the heat was unbearable. Sweat rolled down her in waves, and for the first time since entering the building she was glad her shirt was in the back of Duncan's cruiser. After a brief moment of consideration, she realized that she probably wouldn't be getting it back. She should probably call her tailor—ouch!

A spark ignited on where her right hand was resting, making her jerk back. She cradled her arm in the other. Courtney quickly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Even in the most dangerous situation of one's life it was good to look professional.

At this point, smoke had completely obscured her vision, so she didn't know that the building was already crumbling around her.

Duncan didn't know if he had hit the woman or not. Flames and debris had made him completely lose sight of his target before he had gotten moving. All he knew was that he wanted the woman, Longstorm, the whole gang, hell, even the damn _building_ to suffer for the loss of his headquarters. The car collided with something large, presumably the wall, and after brief resistance, gave in.

The ruined cruiser burst out of the building, showering the whole area with dust, ash, and other such nuisances. Old Man Helterskink's cat's coat might never be the same. Whatever was left of his tires kicked up dirt as he skidded to a stop. He panted, and appreciated the brief respite.

He threw open the door and hopped outside. His muscles and joints screamed in protest. Although the physical exertion of the entire thing hadn't been that much, breathing in all of the fumes and smoke, as well as driving a car through two different walls of the same building, had taken their toll. He bent over and supported himself by bracing his hands on his knees.

The building beside him still had roaring flames all around it. Cinders traveled upward into the sky, along with the smoke. Heat rolled off of the building, and with plenty of air to pollute, breathing was almost worse on the outside. The flames cackled and roared menacingly, almost sounding like a taunt at him. Looking at it, they reminded him of the fire that ravaged the headquarters, which renewed his anger once again.

This far deep in the slums, he couldn't expect any help from fire trucks or the police, so he could only hope that the fire didn't spread.

He hadn't noticed her immediately, but the woman from before was standing just a few meters away. Despite a little clot of blood at the corner of her mouth, it looked like she had avoided injury. She must have been smart enough to move out of the way after lighting the building on fire.

At that point, Duncan realized that the two unrelated buildings had probably been sent to the Great Main Street in the Sky by the same weapon. That only made Duncan angrier.

"Nice stunt, stud." The woman called out, winking at him.

Duncan clenched his fists, and took a menacing step forward. "Screw you; it's time to finish this!" He cried, pulling Scruffy out of his back pocket and pointing it at the woman. His hands were shaking, and the edge of his vision was blurry. There was no way that he would be able to hit her in a life-or-death situation. "Where's Longstorm!" He practically screamed, demanding an answer.

To further antagonize him, she chuckled and rolled her eyes. A gentle smirk was on her lips. She said nothing.

"What's so damn funny?" Duncan growled from between his teeth.

"Idiot," She scoffed. Then she rotated her body so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "_I_ am Longstorm!" She laughed evilly. She clenched her fists, and began a scary transformation from boozed up junkie girl with a flamethrower to a very, very intimidating gang leader.

Duncan gasped. He had never considered that Longstorm would be a girl, let alone the one standing in front of him. He didn't exactly know what he was expecting, but it surely hadn't been that.

"Ha, ha." She gave one last laugh, before turning completely serious. The eyes of a hawk were now staring Duncan down. He gulped. The transformation was complete alright. "And you killed all of my men." She whispered the statement just loud enough so that Duncan could hear her and have it sound like a threat.

Duncan tried to straighten his eyesight for a shot, but failed and opted for some smooth talking instead. "So what if I did?" He matched her tone.

"Oh, that's easy!" A fake joyous tone slid into her voice. Duncan was distracted by the sudden change in mood, and didn't notice her pull out the semi-automatic shotgun until it was too late. She fired off a round, which exploded around Duncan's legs. He had been incredibly lucky to not be dead. Longstorm must have been a little delirious too.

Duncan moved as fast as his woozy legs would carry him to shelter behind his ruined cruiser. He caught his breath, and waited for his mind to catch up to the situation. He was now facing down a woman by the name of Longstorm, who burned down his police station. He couldn't even focus his eyes, and she was almost completely fine, armed with a shotgun. !

Longstorm finished her statement. "Kill you."

Courtney knew that her right leg was broken. Because of the searing pain, that much was certain. She lay defeated on the concrete of the basement. When she had tried to escape the burning building through the gaping hole that Duncan created, the floorboards gave out. She tumbled into the darkness, and landed awkwardly on the now broken leg. She managed to roll over onto her back, into a suitable position to feel sorry for herself.

Now that there was one hole, the entire floor was in danger of caving in on top of her. She could already see several floorboards coming loose. Courtney doubted that she had the strength to get to her feet. If she could just do that, she could limp to the ladder.

She clenched her teeth prematurely so that she ensured that she wouldn't bite her tongue. Courtney had excellent upper body strength, and could get onto her knees with relative ease. Then came the hard part. She placed both of her palms face down, and moved her left leg underneath them. So far so good. But when she tried to push off with one leg, the results weren't so good. The right leg had to at least play a small part, which it couldn't fulfill. Courtney crashed back onto the ground, face first. Well, she bit her tongue anyway. Blood welled up in her mouth. It was one swift stab of pain that wouldn't keep Courtney down. She spat on the ground next to her. She'd get back up before the referee finished ten counts.

The slow and careful approach didn't work, so Courtney opted for a more direct method. She launched herself forward on her right leg to begin with. She let out a blood curdling scream in pain. What she felt was ten times worse that she expected, but it was over. She swung her left foot forward, and she was standing lopsidedly. But she was _standing_. Strange how a normal bodily function could be one of her greatest accomplishments.

Now she had to get to the ladder in the corner of the chamber. Floorboards were now falling through, so Courtney guessed that she had at most a few minutes to get out before the building completely kicked the bucket. She limped slowly and painfully across the concrete floor. Courtney also assumed that one of her ribs was cracked, which explained her difficulty in breathing.

It felt like she being stabbed every time her right foot touched the ground. But she sucked it up, and pressed on. This wasn't going to get her down. Nothing was going to get her down. She was the Police Chief. She was Courtney Strike! It took a ton of work, but she made it. The ladder was right in front of her.

All that she had to do was climb it, and she was home free. Well, sort of. If it took that much work to stand up, it would be triple times as hard to climb a ladder. She decided to get a "jump start" literally. She crouched, with another cry from her back, and sprang up like a crippled cat. She caught the fifth wrung from the top, and realized that it was searing hot. She wrenched her hand back, and fell like a rock to the ground.

The breath flew out of her lungs like a drunk waking up next to a pregnant woman flies out of a bedroom. A spurt of blood flew from her mouth, and fortunately didn't land on her. At least she would die clean.

Bridgette lay on her couch, twisting around the curly cord from her house phone with her toe. The TV ran muted in the corner of her apartment. Her light glared dimly, giving Bridgette darkness to enjoy her day off.

"Yeah, I would never say that to a monkey." She informed her friend on the other line. Bridgette glanced at her watch. She had to make sure to get to bed at a decent hour so that in the morning she could pick up that new suit from the—

Suddenly, she dropped her phone onto the ground, and sprang to her feet.

_"Hello?"_ Her friend called, but the voice fell on deaf ears.

Bridgette fell into a crouch, and reached for her running shoes. She glanced side to side wearily. "I sense a disturbance in the force." She growled.

"_In France they spend six months training policemen, then they give them a gun and put them on the streets, and I don't know that that's enough. I think that if someone wants to be a cop there's got to be a problem.__"_

Duncan maintained a tight grip on Scruffy. His knuckles were white, and he gulped nervously. He could hear Longstorm's footfalls on the other side of the truck. They were almost deliberately slow, but who could blame her? She had all of the time in the world. She had a semi-automatic shotgun, and was up against a single 9mm.

It looked like Scruffy was going to get some action after all. Turns out that in the end, that wasn't true.

A loud rumbling that almost shook the ground thundered across the neighborhood. "What is that!" Duncan cried under his breath. He risked a quick look around the edge of the car.

Down the already ruined road, a large cloud of dust surged forward. It was bigger than an airplane, as if something incredibly fast and large was thundering down the road. It all culminated in a surprisingly small point. It slid to a screeching halt in front of the still burning building.

Before the dust had a chance to settle and Duncan could catch a look at the inside, it surged forward inside. It was so fast that it looked as if it actually _blew out _some of the flames. It surged forward into the basement and was gone.

Longstorm was also preoccupied with the spectacle. That was Duncan's chance. Before she could even turn around, Duncan surged at her. His footfalls were quiet and well-timed, so he got the jump on her. After abandoning his gun, he caught the back of her neck, and brought them both to the ground. He almost bit his tongue on the impact, but knew better of it.

He flexed his stomach muscles, and kept his breath inside. Longstorm, however, wasn't so lucky. Blood was smeared with her lipstick, and the breath was gone. This gave Duncan the advantage.

He quickly wrestled the shotgun from her grasp by karate chopping her wrist like a badass. He tossed it to the side. Then Longstorm began to fight back.

She kicked out against his stomach, and dug her heel into his flesh. He felt it like a gigantic needle, and suppressed the scream of rage that would almost inevitably follow. There would be plenty of time for that later.

But when it came down to a good old-fashioned fist fight, Longstorm was outmatched by far. She swung a hook at his head, but it was futile. He ducked out of the way, and gave a swift uppercut to the jaw. She probably bit her tongue again, but he didn't care. He gave no thought to the fact that he was beating the living crap out of a woman. The only thing registering in his mind was that he was beating the living crap out of the person that burned down his base.

He kneed her in the stomach, and she fell down flat on her back. He dug it in deeper, and grasped for her neck. She was powerless to resist his overwhelming power. He dug his fingers deep into her esophagus. She made a choking noise, and struggled hard under him.

She squirmed with the last ounce of strength she had, but she was growing weaker. Duncan guessed that she was going into tunnel vision right about now. Finally, her last drop of energy faded away. Her head went slack against the ground, as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Duncan relented at that point, rising to his feet. He looked down upon the one who had rained hellfire and brimstone upon his life for the past day and a half. He could kill her, but that would be too good for her. He whipped the pair of handcuffs that he always had with him from his back pocket.

Grabbing the back of her collar, he carelessly dragged her through the dirt over to a streetlight on the side of the road. He slapped them around her wrist, corresponding with one of the poles holding it up.

Duncan dusted off his hands and smiled. All in a day's work.

"_Out of quotes."_

Courtney panted, lying on the ground outside of the now floored building. The flames tinkered out, their damage done. She panted, grabbing at the grass flattened next to her. Soot covered her body. Anybody who didn't know her might not have known that she was Caucasian. Her vision was blurry, so she could only just make out her savior standing over her.

Bridgette leaned down so that she filled Courtney's complete line of vision. "I heard…um…through the grapevine that you were in trouble!"

Courtney heard Duncan behind her, but couldn't actually see him. "_Through the grapevine?_ What are you, some kind of psychic?"

The last sound she heard was them both gasping as her eyes closed, and the world went black.

"_Still out of quotes."_

Duncan sat next to the hospital bed. Sunlight shone brightly through the window, onto the bed. A bird cried out happily outside. The heart-rate machine beeped normally, reporting that the patient was in a normal state.

"Can I get you anything?" The nurse looking over Duncan's shoulder asked him. She had curly and bouncy auburn locks, framing a soft face. Duncan had gotten to know her recently, with all of his visits. Her name was Daisy, and she was an aspiring nurse at the hospital. She still lived with her parents, at least until she could save up enough money to go back to medical school and become a full-fledged doctor.

Duncan waved her away with one hand. "No, thank you." He rested his chin on the palm of his hand, and groaned impatiently.

"I'll check in again later!" Daisy enthusiastically replied. She winked at him, and glided gracefully out the door.

Duncan turned his attention back to the person on the bed as soon as the door shut. They breathed evenly, showing no signs of the struggles endured the previous day, except for bandages placed here and there, covering all of the burns.

Their eyebrows fluttered, and for a second Duncan thought that they would wake up, but still laid flat on the hospital bed. Deciding that one hour of staring at an unconscious person was enough, Duncan dusted off his pants, and got up from the incredibly uncomfortable chair.

Walking across the white tiled room, he reached for the doorknob, and had one afterthought. He turned to look at the unconscious figure on the bed. "Hang in there, Tyler." Making sure that no one thought he was deep, he promptly exited the room.

"_There aren't any quotes! Leave me alone!"_

Duncan raced down the burning hallway of the police headquarters. He had turned on his heel and chased after Tyler. Making a guess, he headed toward the back rooms, where Lindsay liked to take naps.

It was in an even worse state. Rafters were crashing through the ceiling, and the walls were crashing down. He almost shed a tear, realizing that there was no saving his beloved station at this point.

Then he spotted Tyler and Lindsay lying down in the hallway. He dashed forward until he was standing above them. It looked like a chunk of the ceiling had fallen down on top of Tyler, K. him. Lindsay had been dumped there after that. Mysteriously, the room that she had to have been in was still blocked by burning rubbish.

Duncan didn't have much time to dwell on it so, grunting the whole way, he fireman carried them all the way out of the building, where the fire department was waiting.

"_I already told that we can't find any more quotes! *Sniffle* Stop being mean!"_

The room was almost pitch black, lit only by a large lava lamp, standing tall next to the man's throne, made out of hard metal. The man wore a purple animal hair coat, and twirled a diamond-studded cane in one hand. His face was hidden in shadow.

Four people knelt in front of him on the concrete floor of the warehouse, their heads bowed in respect. One of them, a slender woman with long black hair spoke. "Longstorm has been captured, sir. A man by the name of Duncan McMillan took her in yesterday." She said it with no emotion, simply conveying a fact.

The man on the throne scoffed arrogantly. "That's what she gets for openly using our gang name. Hatchet!" He snapped at a large black man, at the end of the line.

He lifted his head. His eyes were that of a hardened criminal. "Yes?" His scratchy voice could send shivers down the bravest man's spine.

"Make preparations for this "Duncan" fellow to be killed, would you?" He said it nonchalantly, as if ordering a pizza. _And throw an extra pepper in the box for me, would you?_

Hatchet rose to his feet, unable to hide the smile. "Gladly."

**A/N: So, was this one worth the wait? I sure hope so. So, Duncan and Courtney have avenged their team's headquarters by taking out Longstorm. In the process, it looks like they've irked a very powerful individual. **

** The "no quotes" running joke stems from me being too lazy to do my annual Google search. If you guys have any quotes that you want to suggest, I'll be glad to include them!**

** And if you guys thought that Tyler was dead, I'm almost sorry. ;)**

** I have big plans for the next chapter, so if any of you are wondering "What could he possibly think of next!", then that question will be answer in full.**


	5. The End of the Beginning?

_The Part Where Shit Gets Real-_

I am sad to say that this is, in fact, the last "chapter" of the first part of this adventure. Well, let me back up. I lamented on the fact that there hasn't been a new chapter for this story in over a year, and _thought _that I'd come up with the reason: that since Total Drama: Revenge of the Island has been a long time in the making, I had run out of inspiration. I recently realized that this is not true. The fact of the matter is that the writing quality of previous chapters is too low for me to continue at my current level. The basic thought is that: _"If the first chapters suck, then how are people going to see the _good _chapters later on?" _And thus I developed a (somewhat obvious) solution. I'm going to call this (refer to the top of the page) Operation: Shit Gets Real. This entails completely rewriting the previous chapters. I see them as building blocks to what will soon be a towering skyscraper. Don't panic, though, the characters and essential plot are still going to remain the same. This story is going to be released as an entirely different title as a tactical ploy to draw in new readers. For those of you who are not subscribed to my _channel_ (please do so ) I will post the title of the new story here as well. I think that is about all that I have to say on the matter. So look forward to the rewrite, my friends! It's coming, and it's going to be better than ever.


	6. See You Some Other Day

Hello, hello, everybody! I have followed up on my promise from yesterday, and the new story has a dramatically short introduction. So go read _Ruling The Streets _right now! Tell your friends! Tweet it! Post on your Facebook! SPREAD THE WORD!

But I have something else for you, as, I dunno, a going-away present? This is the original first chapter, but I found it very rambling with no structure. This would never see the light of day if I didn't post it right now. So, without further a due, roll the clip!

"_The most romantic a woman ever said to me in bed was; "Are you sure you are not a __cop__?"__"_

Courtney Strike **(Hateful Police Chief) **was not pleased. _Not pleased_. In front of her was a bum, a cheat, a slimy, greasy, smelly, and all around _terrible _human being. Captain McMillan smiled at her, and winked. "How's it going Courtney?" He asked solely to spite her.

She snapped her pencil in half trying to control her anger, and resisted the urge to strangle the man on the other side of her desk. She had received a complaint sent directly to the front office. Bridgette, her Assistant Chief, knew that Courtney thought it her duty to deal with these things directly. That also entailed, unfortunately, dealing with the sleazy police captain.

She snapped back into her professional state. "The man that you pulled over today on Darfield Drive claims that you told him that you gave him a ticket because, and I quote, 'I don't like you.'" Courtney glared at Duncan.

"He gave me the stink eye!" Duncan defended himself.

Courtney shuffled papers on her desk. "You know, I'm not going to put up with this forever."

Duncan thought for a moment. "Okay," He reasoned. "Then how about I make it up to you by taking you out to dinner?" He suggested.

"You should know the answer to that by now." Courtney replied flatly. When Duncan didn't see anything, she followed up, "You're dismissed." He didn't move. "OUT!" Courtney screamed.

"Alright! You have such a temper," Duncan said, walking swagger out of her door.

Courtney's head crashed onto her desk. Bridgette Leaner **(Helpful Assistant Chief) **poked her head through the still open door. "I suppose you'll want another Advil, ma'am?" She inquired.

"Please," Courtney groaned.

_Yeah, I do have bank robbers to catch, but that might be dangerous, so I'm going to play it safe and write you this ticket._

Noah was sitting at his desk, randomly doodling on a piece of construction paper. As far as he was concerned, his only duty was doing whatever Duncan told him to. He got away with it, too. He was just finishing his dandelion with devil horns and a goatee, when Cody burst into the office room. While Duncan was gone to have a conference with the chief, inherently Noah was in charge. This meant that all the responsibilities were his too.

"Detective Armstrong wants to see you sir!" Cody cried.

"Okay, okay, send him in." Noah said absentmindedly.

Cody pointed a shaking finger outside. "He wants to see you in the parking lot." He informed him.

"Fine, fine." Noah pushed out his chair, and followed Cody outside.

Harold Armstrong **(Fallout Detective) **was standing next to a rickety old car that looked like it would fall apart at any time. He didn't look pleased. "Do you see this?" He wheezed, as Cody shuffled back inside.

"It's a car…right?" Noah asked.

Harold corrected him, "A _crappy_ car! I want one of those cool police cruisers that Captain McMillan has!" He complained.

Noah sighed. "Maybe you can ask Santa to leave it under the Christmas tree?" he suggested.

Harold slapped the hood. "That's not funny! I want the budget for a cooler ride! And one that plays music so I can be like Batman while I'm patrolling the streets!" He explained.

"Listen Armstrong," Noah sighed. "You haven't solved a case in three months. You haven't exactly _earned_ it." He said.

"Fine, idiot!" Harold stomped away to his Nerd Cave or whatever.

"The garbage truck doesn't come until tomorrow! You can't just leave it here!" Noah yelled after him.

_The answer to this last question will determine whether you are drunk or not. Was Mickey Mouse a cat or a dog?_

Brady, Duncan, and Eva all crowded behind one public mail box, looking onward to the incredible scene unfolding in front of them. Duncan gulped, pulling out his collar to try and sooth the sweat rolling down his collar. Eva clenched and un-clenched her fists repeatedly, the emotional strain was evident in the way she creased her eyebrow and set her jaw. Brady was the only one in the trio who seemed to be at ease. His shoulders were slack, and he was hunched over like Duncan.

Tyler gulped, and tried to suppress the shaking in his hands. He took a weary step forward, which brought him in front of Lindsay. She was following a cockroach's progress across

-End-

That's where I stopped writing. So guys, Operation: Shit Gets Real is in full swing. Go check out that story, once again, _Ruling The Streets. _I'll see you there! (I have also changed my penname to TheZombieJuice, so please don't be confused). TheZombieJuice, signing off!


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